


Of Red and Feathers

by Cynthia_Silver



Series: Destiel Smut [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Dom Dean, Dream Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Rope Bondage, Sub Castiel, Trust, Whipping, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynthia_Silver/pseuds/Cynthia_Silver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean meet up in a dream for some alone time.  Castiel wants it rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Red and Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coldplaying_In_The_TARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldplaying_In_The_TARDIS/gifts).



Dean’s dreams were always an odd place for Cas to be, in a metaphysical sense.  With a little help from Castiel, Dean was able to master lucid dreaming, and naturally used it to transform his dreams into sex-torture dungeons whenever possible, though mostly when Cas visited, which was fairly frequently.  The sex-torture dungeons were only a bonus to the angel, though, who only came for Dean (in every sense of the word).

Not every night was hard edges and pain with Dean.  Cas often found Dean simply wanting to touch and be touched.  He never denied Dean this when he was able to give it to him.  Those nights held the give of skin and warmth, a blur of sensation and touch and light and love.  This night happened to be a mixture of the two.

Cas appeared to Dean this night as he usually did; fully clothed.  He knew how Dean liked to work the clothes off of him in one way or another.  Sometimes he cut them off.  Other times he watched as Cas stripped them off of himself slowly. 

Upon seeing Cas, Dean immediately crowded him and backed him into a wall of his mind’s creation, pinning his wrists as he did so.  Cas let out a little noise in surprise before he felt Dean’s mouth, warm and inviting, on his own.  Dean aggressively shoved his tongue along Cas’s, causing the angel to groan. Pleasant friction sparked as Dean ground their hips together in a slow rhythm.  Cas was more than happy to reciprocate the motion.

“Hello Dean,” greeted Cas when Dean finally drew back for air, even as Dean rubbed against him.

Dean smiled a devious grin at Cas and ceased the motion of his hips.  He dropped Cas’s wrists only to hold onto Cas’s hips, preventing him from bucking into him.  Cas gave a little grunt of frustration at the sudden loss of contact.  When Cas stilled, Dean asked, slightly breathless, “How do you want it tonight, Cas?  Really, I’m up for anything.”

Cas’s immediate, unashamed response was, “I want you to mark me, Dean.”

A heap of tan coat slid to the ground, forgotten as Dean threw aside layers.  “Oh do you now, Castiel?” crooned Dean, working quickly.  Cas hummed in response, shifting as Dean tugged at his pants in order to aid the process.  In mere moments, Cas stood naked in front of Dean, aroused and disheveled.  Stubble scratched at Dean’s hands as he held Cas’s cheeks, kissing him again, taking his time and allowing Cas to hold him back.  He felt as Cas’s length pressed against his leg and grinned, pushing down on Cas’s shoulders.  “Kneel,” he commanded against Cas’s parted lips.

“Yes, Dean,” whispered Cas, even as he dropped to his knees in front of Dean.  Heat coiled inside Dean like a serpent at the sight of Cas’s obedience.  As Cas knelt, ropes snaked and tightened around his body in complex knots to form bindings.  The burn of the rope drew a tantalized noise from Castiel as the bonds completed their circuits.

Softness around Cas’s legs, where the mattress supported him, contrasted starkly to the bite of the rope binding him by wrist and shoulder and thigh, like a harness, shooting up into the sky, Dean’s dreamscape above, like a beacon.  Dean smiled at his handiwork, the invention of his mind manifested in the form of the bonds holding his angel still for him, exposed, naked.

Cas was posed as someone praying; hands drawn into the chest, head bowed, and resting on his legs, kneeling, waiting.  Dean found it poetic.

No sound was made when Dean knelt behind Cas, hands roaming over the taut lines of Cas’s ribs and sides, leaving goose bumps in their wakes.  Dean felt Cas squirm against the ropes when his hands lingered over Cas’s nipples, and grinned against Cas’s shoulder.  “Not a thing you can do like this, angel,” said Dean, and Cas’s eyelids fluttered shut.  “Got you right where I want you.”

Dean trailed a finger down Cas’s spine lightly, moving all the way to Cas’s crack, and stopped there only to cup Cas’s ass in his hands.  Cas jerked, cock hardening already, but groaned when he could not escape Dean’s teasing.  Dean’s hands felt hot on his skin.

“Would you like me to whip you, Castiel?” purred Dean softly into Cas’s ear.  The bluntness of the statement, coupled with the lightness of Dean’s hands, caused Cas to moan quietly.

“Yes, Dean,” he responded, already anticipating what was to come. 

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’s middle and began to swirl a finger around Cas’s swollen head as he bit and sucked at Cas’s exposed neck, savoring the taste of sweat on the angel.  Cas tilted his head away from Dean, giving him more area, humming with anticipation and pleasure.  Thoughts of his helplessness made him tingle and his heart race.

A trail of bite marks reddened Cas’s light neck.  It glistened slightly as Dean worked across it, careful not to bring Cas to orgasm yet with his touches.  He stopped when Cas moaned out “Dean…” under his breath.

Dean dragged his hands around to Cas’s back before lightly pulling his fingertips down Cas’s back, then finally away as he stood, bouncing gently on the mattress.  In his hand appeared a medium length whip; relatively soft, but with enough bite to break the skin.  If he hit hard enough, Dean knew, he could easily draw blood.  It was, in every sense, his dream whip.

Tense muscles tried to relax as Cas listened to Dean shuffle behind him.  His arousal was thickening with every passing moment.

He jumped when he heard the whip whistle and pop behind him suddenly, but relaxed again when he did not feel the sting.  Dean’s chuckles filled the atmosphere.  “Just practicing, angel,” he heard Dean murmur before another crack of the whip sent shivers down his back.

Without warning Cas felt a stinging bolt cross his shoulder blade, causing him to hiss.  Four more came in quick succession, each slightly harder than the last.  Cas bit his lip to keep in the noises he felt rising past his throat.  Five angry streaks bloomed across Cas’s shoulders as Dean watched, fascinated and pleased by the marks.

 Now Dean stepped closer to Cas and held the length of the whip closer to the end, making it shorter and easier to handle.  Aiming for Cas’s shoulders, Dean lashed lightly, barely  reddening the skin there.  Cas enjoyed the sensation as Dean slowly worked his way down Cas’s back, whipping lower each time until finally the whip teased at Cas’s round cheeks.  The ropes swayed a little as Cas began to rock himself in a futile attempt for friction against his erection.

Dean stepped back to watch Cas, wanting, writhing.  When Cas stilled everything but his quick breathing, Dean pulled back the whip again and struck hard, giving Cas three new stripes over the ones that were still forming.  Cas couldn’t suppress his gasp.  Miniscule spots of crimson were visible now.  Another strike drew blood.  One more left Cas whimpering softly.  Now Dean allowed the whip to evaporate silently from his hands.

“Castiel,” called Dean sweetly.  “I need you to show me your wings now.”

Cas froze.  “No, Dean, please… that’s too much,” Castiel begged as he strained his neck in an effort to see behind him, fearing the bite of the absent whip on his sensitive wings.

“I know it is,” soothed Dean, tracing Castiel’s jaw with his fingertip.  “Do you trust me, Cas?”

Cas inhaled deeply, calming himself.  “Yes, Dean…” he trailed, a hint of questioning anxiety in his voice. 

“Show me your wings, Castiel.”

Light pooled behind Cas as he obeyed, black wings materialized, shining, radiant despite their color.  Ebony soon towered around Dean on either side of him, stretching as if poised for a cleaning.  Cas exhaled with both the effort and the relief of stretching his wings.

“Thank you,” whispered Dean as he pressed a kiss behind Cas’s ear.  Dean almost immediately began to stroke the feathers around him, sparking plumes of pleasure in Cas, who closed his eyes to the touch.  Gradually Dean touched more fully, massaging feathers and muscles at the base of Cas’s wings.  Cas groaned as the sting of his back mingled with the aching pleasure in his wings.  The heat in his belly intensified with each touch, and soon he was stretching his wings as far backwards as he could manage in an effort to allow Dean as much contact as he could provide, straining against the ropes as his cock began to leak.

By the time Dean reached the sensitive arches of Cas’s wings, Cas was writhing and murmuring curses and blessings under his breath, covered in sweat.  Dean decided it was time.  He leaned in close to Cas’s ear and commanded, “Come for me, Castiel,” as he dug his fingers in beneath the feathers.  This pushed Cas over the edge, causing him to shout and twitch under Dean’s hands, coming hard.

Dean felt Cas’s wings go lax and droop as he pulled his fingers out of the feathers.  “Dean,” Cas called, voice wrecked by his orgasm.  “I want to see you come, now.”

Dean was already close.  Quickly he circled Cas to kneel in front of him, mirroring him, almost.  He began to stroke himself quickly, letting out soft _ah_ s with every other pump.  He came with his free hand bunched in the mattress and Cas’s name on his lips.

As soon as he recovered, Dean lowered Cas gently on top of him as the bonds dissolved into nothingness, leaving only red marks where Cas had strained.  Dean reclined them both to lie down on the mattress, allowing Cas to rest his head on his chest and tuck them both under a wing.  Dean stroked Cas’s side, fingers trailing along the edges of the marks along his back.

“You can heal those, you know,” Dean mumbled sleepily as he caressed the angel. 

Cas made a soft grunting noise against Dean.  “I will,” he said.  “Later.”

Dean awoke as he fell asleep, a long black feather in his hand.

 


End file.
